


Glitter and Dust

by starmuffin



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Female Protagonist, Spunky Female, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starmuffin/pseuds/starmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He told me there were faeries. I needed him to be right. Because otherwise we might just die down here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darkness

I was looking down the barrel of a gun.

That. That was where my life was.

The water was dripping around me, collecting in puddles and soaking through my jeans. I wondered what I would look like when I finally got out of here, when I finally saw the light of day again. Would I recognize myself?

Probably not.

The water plinked loudly somewhere off to my left, in the impenetrable darkness of the sewer, and I heard a rustling as he made his way over to me.

He could see, of course. I would have broken my neck if I tried to walk, but he could see like nothing was wrong.

"Hey baby," he said as he got close, his breath thick with flowery alcohol and a smile in his voice. He pressed against me, his fingers on my face, presumably leaving long streaks of grime over my cheeks.

I felt his lips, soft airy lips that seemed completely unperturbed about the fact that we were in a bloody _sewer_. His arm pushed down on my leg, sending my foot into a puddle of water that instantly soaked all the way through my worn sneaker.

I wasn't sure if I cared or not.

I let him kiss me and then stood up, bringing him with me. I squinted in the dark until I thought I could make out his face, but it was impossible to tell if I was imagining it or not.

In darkness like this, you could forget who you were. Forget where you were and even that the material world existed at all. You could spin off into your thoughts and never come back.

Well, I'd already done the first part.

I could feel him smile, and he pressed me up against the slime-slick wall, his body hot and his mouth wet on my neck. But I pushed him away and stumbled into the darkness.

"Let's go," I said. "Let's get out of here."

He was silent for a moment, standing still, but then I heard him laugh under his breath. I imagined him shaking his head and thinking up colorful curses for me in his native tongue. But I didn't care, because he started moving, his footsteps circling around me. He took my fingers, the rough wool of my glove grinding into my skin, and pulled me after him.

He better be right. Goddamn, he better be right about this. He better not be lying again.

"I am," he said, laughing. He let go of my hand and danced away, jingling and wooshing as he spun in circles ahead of me, sending tiny splashes echoing down the tunnel. "I am the Goblin Prince and you are my queen. And soon we will be at my palace."

I swallowed down the bitter heat at that word — _queen_.

Oh, fuck him.

But I couldn't go back. Not up there. Him and his bloody faerie castle were my only hope.

"Get back here," I said, pouring every once of my impatience and irritation into my voice. "Get back here and hold my hand."

My cheeks burned as soon as those words were out, as soon as I heard how they sounded, but it was too late.

He cooed, muttering baby noises at me in fake affection, but again I didn't care. He was walking toward me.

As soon as I thought he was close, I grabbed for his hand, but my fingers only brushed past the edge of his coat. He laughed.

"Give me your hand," I said quietly, doing everything I could to make it sound menacing.

He laughed again and took my hand, pushing close again and pressing those hot lips against my cheek.

Before I could push him away he was off again, giggling like a maniac and pulling me after him. He was so quick that I was stumbling, barely managing not to trip over the broken bricks and bits of garbage, but somehow he seemed confident that I would be just fine.

Or maybe he just didn't care.

He was singing now, the words so slurred with alcohol and giddiness that I couldn't tell which language they were in.

As we slowed into a straight path, which he took with swinging feet and laughter, he either forgot the words or found the chorus, breaking down into sounds that didn't even sound like they had meaning.

"A leu, a leu a lei, a leu, a leauuu."

He spun away again, laughing breathily and muttering broken syllables of the song.

"Javier!" I stomped my foot, landing on a beam that leaned down heavily, almost making me lose my balance. My foot was stuck. I ignored it. "Get back here, you—"

Before I could think of what exactly to call him, his finger pressed against my lips. He tasted vile.

"Sh-hh-hh," he giggled. "Sh. It's okay. We're almost there."

"You're insane."

I felt him shrug, and then he swooped down and pulled my foot out of the hole.

"Come on," he breathed excitedly, lifting me up onto his back. "It's just over here."

I hit his shoulder but didn't say anything. Now at least he wouldn't let me go. I hoped.

His hands were on the backs of my thighs, just above the sensitive spot on the backs of my knees, and he was still muttering brokenly to himself.

His voice was beautiful.

I leaned down, resting my head on his shoulder and listening to him.

Maybe things weren't so bad after all.

I found myself drifting to sleep, wondering vaguely just how far it could be, but his words were like honey and I couldn't pull myself up.

I... Oh... well, it served him right to have to carry me, anyway.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes again, I could see.  
My jeans were filthy, covered in bits of dried-up slime and dead leaves, the entire bottom half of them now a sickly shade of green. My shirt wasn't much better, and there were a small collection of scratches and bruises on my arms that I was praying wouldn't get infected. I wondered what my face looked like.  
I tugged a twig out of my hair as I blinked up at the source of the light — a crack in the roof of the tunnel. It was so immensely high and far away that I found myself gaping for a moment, awed that such tunnels were running below the city, right below my feet. It made the story of a faerie castle down here almost believable, if only for a half-second.  
The sunlight filtered down through glittering dust, barely enough to illuminate us, a hue of yellow-orange that told me it was about sunset already. Or maybe even sunrise.  
A whole day.  
I wondered how long I'd been out. I'd been pretty tired, up for at least thirty hours — I had no idea how much time had passed after we'd gone into the sewer. And with everything that happened yesterday...  
I looked over at Javier.  
He was sitting a few feet away, looking up at the light with a dreamy, distant smile on his face. There was something in his hands that he was fumbling with, and he popped it into his mouth, biting down with a juicy-sounding crush.  
There was a bit of grime on his face, but not too bad. He still looked human, at least. His long hair was a bit frazzled and unwashed, tied back in a sloppy ponytail, but that was how it always was.  
I bit back the bit of indignation that surfaced again at the thought — the thought that there was no way a Mexican could be a fucking faerie. It was some kind of rule. Like Jesus and Santa Claus.  
Well, okay, he wasn't a Mexican; his mother was Cuban and his father was Puerto Rican or Columbian or something like that. I didn't know. All I knew was that they came over on little home-made boats and had loud parties and chickens in their front yard. Bloody chickens.  
Of course, I had grown up right next door to him, so that didn't say much about me. But I wasn't claiming to be royalty.  
I sighed, bringing my knees up and hiding myself away for a moment, wrapping my arms around my head. I willed myself away, away to another time and place. Even back there with the chickens. I'd been happy then, before all this mess.  
When I peeked out, Javier was looking at me, an amused smile on his lips. He popped another of the things into his mouth.  
“What is that— Is that a grape? How the hell did you get grapes down here, you asshole? Don't tell me they were growing here.” I shuddered, trying to ignore how weak my voice sounded.  
Javier laughed and ate another. He offered me one, but I shook my head, even though my stomach was rumbling. I wasn't going to risk getting poisoned just to eat something that was ninety-five percent water.  
Oh, but I was thirsty.  
I crawled over to him, not thinking anything except to wet my parched lips. I kissed him, tasting the sweetness of the grapes and just barely the tastes of his toothpaste and possibly marijuana.  
I pulled myself away.  
His eyes were bright, though — sparkling greeny-brown and intelligent.  
He was sober.  
I sighed and let myself fall against his chest, trying not to let him know how wonderful he felt. How warm, how safe, how smooth his skin felt through the cloth of his shirt. Discretely, I turned my face into him and breathed in through my nose.  
Ugh.  
Okay, that had been dumb.  
I stared at the last grape in his hand, wondering just where the hell it had come from. He didn't have any bags with him. I supposed he might have had them in his coat pocket, for whatever reason.  
“Where are we going?” I asked, looking down the sewer. “You said we were almost there.”  
“Tunnel was collapsed,” he mumbled through his grape. “Had to go the long way around.”  
I shot him a suspicious glance, and then looked up at the roof again. The light was getting rapidly darker.  
This had to be the main sewer line, being this tall. Why weren't we taking this way the entire time? The echoes hadn't sounded this far away before.  
“'S a grate down that way,” he said, pointing down to his left. “Blocked our path.”  
Damn him, answering me like that.  
“And that way?” I asked, nodding down to the right.  
He grinned.  
“That's where we're going.”  
“To your castle?”  
“To my castle,” he nodded.  
I bit my lip.

* * *

“And that is why there are no such things as heffalumps,” I declared.  
Jaime stared back at me with wide eyes, his cheeks covered with streaks of glitter and his mouth hanging open in a baby-pout.  
I laughed.  
Jaime fell forward and crawled a few inches toward me, mercilessly unaware of how ridiculous he looked wearing a tutu and a pair of costume pixie wings — leftovers from when I had been two years old and believed I could be a ballerina or a faerie princess if I just tried hard enough.  
“No, no, you've got to stay over there. Don't get your drooly fingers all over my math book; I'll have to pay for it.”  
Jaime sat down and started gumming the sparkly star on the end of his magic wand.  
“No, dont... stick that in your mouth,” I laughed, pulling it gently away from him. “Not unless you want glittery poop. I'd love to see you explain that to Mom.”  
He stared at me.  
“I'll tell her what I've told her all along — you're a gremlin.”  
He was blowing bubbles in his saliva, ignoring me now.  
I shook my head, giving his big toe a final wiggle and turning back to my trigonometry homework.  
I was chewing on the end of the star as I worked, because I was a big fat hypocrite. Finally, I put it down and pulled out a box of candy cigarettes instead, sucking on one with my feet hanging off the end of the bed behind me. Every few moments my eyes were flicking to the clock on my nightstand, the big red numbers moving achingly slow.  
I had three problems left when I finally heard it — a crack and a dull thump from Jaime's room, and then the sound of the window being shut.  
I wasn't sure what I would do when Jaime got bigger, but for now the easiest way to sneak in or out of the house was the tree outside his window, and I was going to take advantage of it while I could.  
I stared down at my math book unseeingly, unable to suppress my smile as I let him pretend he was being sneaky, that I didn't hear his every footstep as he crept down the hall and into my room.  
Jaime looked up, staring over my head with his big wide baby-blue eyes, and I grinned at him.  
In the next instant, Javier was on top of me, his warm body on my back and his lips on my ear, holding me by the waist in a way that sent tingles all the way down to my toes.  
He kissed my cheek and smiled over at Jaime.  
“You're going to warp that boy's brain before he's even old enough to talk.”  
I grinned and pushed myself back up against him, feeling every inch of him that I could, twining my fingers through his.  
He smiled against my neck and grabbed hold of me, rolling me off the bed and onto the white shaggy rug beside it.  
“Hello,” he breathed, on top of my now.  
“Hi,” I smiled.  
“Sarah,” he mumbled, nuzzling my neck. He kissed a line down to the collar of my shirt.  
“Don't call me that.”  
I wasn't trying to rebel and claim my independence, naming myself something ridiculous like “Thorn” and dressing all in black. No. But I had never felt that name was right for me. It didn't sum me up, it didn't fit me at all, didn't have anything to do with who I was. And it sounded even more wrong coming from his lips.  
“My princess,” he amended, pulling my shirt down to nose my cleavage. “My faerie princess.”  
He decided that it would be easier to lift my shirt up instead, and so he tugged it up over my head, running his hands over my ribs down to my hips.  
I glanced up at the bed, but Jaime was obliviously crawling about, paying us no mind whatsoever.  
Javier went to unbutton my jeans, but I grabbed his hand.  
He pouted, but there was a smile there. He hadn't really been trying.  
He took my breast into his mouth, the inch of skin just inside the edge of my bra, his lips still smiling knowingly. I knew was he was doing, trying to make me give in, to want more, but I was too stubborn for that.  
“Look at me,” I said.  
He lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes boring into mine. They were greener now, and clear, mesmerizingly deep and shining with flecks of blue and silvery-violet.  
He was my Goblin Prince.  
“Dance with me,” he breathed, standing up and pulling me after him. He took my hand into his, the other on my hip, and spun us about, waltzing over the teddy bears and books strewn across my floor.  
He was singing now, humming under my ear, breaking into Spanish and whatever language his faerie people used, spinning me around my bed and back again, into my closet and up against the wall.  
I expected him to kiss me then, and would have let him, but he laughed and sprang away, leaping over my life-sized stuffed tiger to the bed. He plucked Jaime up and held him to his chest, singing and swaying in half-circles that made Jaime giggle merrily.  
“And we'll take you away, far far sleeping away, to where the sun rests on pillow-top clouds and the flowers melt like wine...”  
He pressed his lips to the top of Jaime's head and looked at me, his eyes all glittering and green now.


	3. Balance

"Why are we going down there?"

As soon as the words were out, I clamped my mouth shut. I wasn't nervous. My voice hadn't wavered. And my palms weren't sweating now.

I wiped my free hand on my jeans, eying the side tunnel that we were going into. It was small and dark, nothing like the safe main sluice we were in right now.

"This's the way," Javier said, turning back to look at me. His eyes were glittering again. I never was sure what that meant.

I gripped his fingers, pulling him closer to me.

"I'm still mad at you," I said as we stepped into the darkness.

"Hm. For what?"

I wished he didn't sound like he was asking just to indulge me.

Oh god I was hungry.

"For letting go of me earlier."

"I'm sorry."

I could tell he wasn't looking at me when he said it.

Fuck him. Fuck him, he's a bastard.

I tried desperately to feel that, to get the comforting self-confidence and the strength of indignation that usually came from those thoughts.

But I just wanted to curl up and cry.

No. No, I couldn't do that.

I squeezed his hand tighter as we turned a corner, the shadows swallowing us up. It was oppressively warm down here, the thick humidity plastering itself to my face and coating my throat. I couldn't smell the stench anymore, but I knew it was there, clinging to me, so deeply ingrained in my clothes that I would never get it out.

Please tell me we were close now. Please.

I shook Javier's hand, wanting him to sing, to murmur some sweet lullaby that would make me forget, at least for a little while, how tired and dead and broken I felt.

But I couldn't say the words. I couldn't admit it to him.

The very thought made my eyes burn and water, but I blinked it away and wiped my face on his shoulder.

It would be okay.

I found myself whimpering then, singing the words I wished he would, the sounds so strangled and caught that I barely could make them out. I sounded like I was drowning, I thought. But I couldn't stop the words from coming out.

"Far far sleeping away, to where... the sun... rests on pillow-top clouds and the flowers... melt... like wine... We'll bring you to sleep on a honey-comb bed and sing songs of the life you never had, love... a lieu, a lieu, a lie."

I spun, my steps awkward and swaying, my feet tapping loudly against the bricks. Javier pulled me into his chest, and I felt his breath on me again, hot as it always was. I could feel his heartbeat, unexpectedly fast, and some tension in his muscles that I didn't understand.

There was a grin on my lips — a haughty, warm thing, and I wasn't sure if it was from finally having an effect on him or from having stolen his song.

"You can't catch me now," I whispered.

I slipped away from him, running into the darkness, jumping and skipping and spinning about. There was laughter spilling out from me, laughter that filled me up and boiled out, bouncing off the ceiling and falling like beads into the water.

It caught suddenly and I froze, falling down, meeting the slimy bricks when I had expected that I would just keep going on forever.

I let myself collapse down onto them, sobbing into the grime, the hot tears pooling up in my eyes and running down into my mouth. I lapped at them eagerly, chasing after that bit of water and salt, laughing and crying as my stomach wrenched inside of me.

I was vaguely aware of Javier touching me, his hand on my shoulder, and then pulling my face up.

"Sarah."

He had beautiful eyes.

"Sarah."

I frowned. That... wasn't my name. It wasn't. My name was... something else.

He pressed his hands to either side of my face, holding me straight, pressing his warmth down into my temples.

I stared at him, the remnants of giggles still bubbling up in my throat.

"Sarah," he said again. But my eyes were on his hand, which was moving into his coat, fumbling about and resurfacing with a shiny green grape.

Hm, I could see. How strange. Was there a light? There was a light. Why wasn't there a light before?

"Sarah, listen."

I looked at him.

He was silly.

"Sarah, this will help you, but listen Sarah. Sarah, listen. If you eat this, Sarah, Sarah, listen. If you eat this, it will bind you to me, do you understand? You will belong to me. Sarah? Do you understand? Forever, Sarah."

I watched the grape in his fingers. It was pretty, wasn't it. Just a simple little thing. Belong to him? Because I ate a grape? Uhnnn.... that... something... faerie food. I remembered something about that.

Oh well, that wasn't so bad.

I nodded.

"You understand?"

I nodded, pulling at his hand.

He watched me for a moment more and then let out his breath.

"Okay," he said, his hand moving forward. "But this will make you a bit giddy, okay?"

Giddy?

It was in that instant, when it pressed against my lips, that I understood.

This was his flowery alcohol. That was why he brought them with him. That was why...

And then it was in my mouth, and I bit down, sending a gush of juice to every corner of my mouth.

My eyes went wide.

* * *

He always had perfect balance.

He had his arms out like a gymnast, as if they were wings that would catch him if he fell. But he never needed them. He walked straight across the balance beam as if it was nothing, as if it was as wide as a sidewalk.

I sat in the bits of recycled tire beside him, my diaper an ample cushion for the fall I had made yet again. I watched him with unabashed awe as he walked across, his feet moving swiftly over the beam with perfect accuracy.

"It's not fair," I said as he reached the end. "You're a faerie. 'M not."

"It is too fair," he said with a twinkling smile. "Look, I'll show you."

He took me by the hands and pulled me up, leading me onto the beam and standing beside me.

"Don' stop moving. Jus' keep putting your feet forward."

I tried to do as he said, moving my little toddler feet one after the other, but I hadn't gotten four steps before I fell again.

I was happy, though. Four steps was farther than I'd gotten before.

Javier hopped back onto the beam and started stepping across again.

"Tell me about your castle," I said.

He grinned at me, looking up from the beam and still not losing his balance or even slowing his step.

"There are dragons," he breathed as he got to the end, spinning around and starting back again. "And lions with wings like angels. And lots of cake and ice cream."

"And dances?"

He smiled at me. He knew I already knew the answer; I just liked to hear about it.

"Dances every night and every day. Dances in the hallways and in the kitchens. Everyone and every thing dances," and here he called me by a name, a name that blurred in my memory, but I felt it, felt that that, that was right.

"You could dance there," he said, jumping down and taking my hand to his lips.

I could dance.


	4. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should clear things up a little. Maybe you all will be a little less confused now. ^-^

I was eight when we moved into the new house.

Dad had just married Ella, who was beautiful, blond and sweet, but wasn't exactly the sort to live next to a house with loud parties and chickens.

She had money, which wasn't something I had ever thought we were lacking, but she had clicked her tongue with disdain at the hole in our screen door and the grass stains on the knees of my jeans. She had taken me out shopping immediately, insisting that I needed some "proper" girl clothes and toys.

I didn't mind the new clothes, though I didn't understand what was wrong with the ones I had. But when she had tried to replace my stuffed animals and my books, that was when I had cried.

She didn't understand, I had thought as I clutched my polar bear doll — he was almost as big as I was, and had a large pink stain over his back leg from when I had stepped on my plastic lunch box and split my foot open — she didn't understand that new books would have different binding, different font, different illustrations from the ones I had stared at for hours and traced my fingers over until they had grease smears and I had memorized every detail.

She had relented, though the look on her face had told me she still didn't get it. Perhaps she had figured I would grow out of it, once I started getting interested in boys and cell phones and everything else.

The new house was huge, a two-story mansion, as my eight-year-old vocabulary had declared it — filled with rooms and nooks and beautiful white carpets. I had pointed to the latter and asked who would do such a thing, making a carpet white when it would inevitably get stained. Ella had just laughed and ruffled my hair, telling me that I would be careful.

Javier had begun to visit me instantly, riding his bike across town, climbing up the tree in the front whenever I wasn't supposed to have guests. He came in the middle of the night, and on schooldays when I was sick, and on weekends he would take me out. We always told Ella we were going to the movies or the library, and sometimes we did, but usually he would take me to the park or to walk along the railroads and under bridges, admiring the colorful graffiti and sipping sodas. When we got older we would fall to kissing, and once or twice he offered me alcohol or cigarettes, but I never accepted.

I never saw him smoking or drinking, though. Back then I'd assumed he simply did it when I wasn't around, and maybe the smell of marijuana that clung to his clothes was just from his dad, like he said it was.

When Jaime was born, I'd had to start babysitting him, my Friday nights now occupied with changing his diaper and feeding him peas and squash. But Javier hadn't minded the interruption — he simply would climb up the tree and creep up behind me as I rocked Jaime to sleep in his crib, sneak up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist, breathing in my hair and humming with my lullaby. His tune would always fit with mine, but somehow change it, turning the familiar melody into something different, something of his own. His eyes would linger on Jaime for just a moment longer than mine, a small smile on his lips that made me wonder if he wanted kids of his own.

After Jaime was asleep, we would go to my room, or down to the living room to snuggle on the couch and watch a movie.

On most occasions, the movie would fail to keep his attention, and half way through he would burst out into telling me a story or insisting we go sit on the tree swing in my front yard.

One time, about a week before my fifteenth birthday, he took me to the window and pointed to the tree. It was dark out, some time between eleven and midnight, and the sky was a thick, sleepy blue specked with stars.

There were lights. Small, floating lights that danced around the tree, flitting this way and that like leaves in the wind, small groups of them spiraling and circling about each other playfully.

"Fireflies?" I'd asked, although I was pretty sure the insects didn't live in this state.

"Fairies," he'd whispered, and kissed me on the forehead.

We sat and watched them for a long time, and I remember thinking it was the first time I'd seen him sit still that long.

* * *

It was when Jaime turned two that the trouble started.

I would consistently find him sitting in some closet or cupboard, sitting on the floor and blinking up at me when I opened the door, seeming for all the world like he would have been perfectly content to sit there for another hour or more. He never really cried unless he was hurt or lonely, never made much sound as he crept out of his crib and waddled around the house, and so we had put an anklet on him with a bell, the constant jingling an alarm to where he was at all times.

Javier had said before that I would warp his brain.

I never worried about it until I found him in the corner of the linen closet, sitting in pitch darkness with glitter all over his face.

"What are you doing?" I asked, wiping the dust off his cheek. "Don't play with my glitter; you'll make a mess."

"'S'no' yours," he mumbled as I wiped off his saliva-wet mouth.

"What do you mean? Jaime, this is my glitter. Don't go through my things," I said, lifting him up.

"Faerie dust."

I paused, watching as Jaime looked back at me soberly, his blue eyes wide and serious.

"Jaime, don't lie to me. I'm not mad, just don't do it again," I said, looking away from his face to clean his hands with the corner of his shirt.

"Faeries gave it, Sara!" he protested as I pulled the shirt up over his head. "S'magic."

I frowned, bending over and picking up the tiny jar that was lying on the carpet, its contents spilled all over the floor.

"Jaime, this is mine. Now it's all gone and you made a big mess. Please don't do this again."

There was glitter all over my hand now, and in the air, settling into his hair and on his skin as he continued to stare up at me.

"Faeries, Sara," he said, his voice cracking into a sob.

"This is mine," I said fiercely, holding the jar in front of his face. "You took it from my room. Now don't lie and don't do it again, Jaime!"

He looked at me for one moment longer before he started to cry, bawling and clutching at my shirt desperately.

I clenched my teeth and took him into the bathroom, setting him on the edge of the tub as I started the water. I ran my fingers through it, testing the temperature as I tugged at his pants with my other hand. He was still whimpering, his shining eyes watching me and waiting for some sign of acceptance.

I pulled open the straps of his diaper and then put him in the water, reaching around him to grab the baby shampoo.

"Not lying," he sobbed quietly, patting a clump of soap suds with his hand.

I bit my lip, lathering the shampoo through his hair and not saying anything.

It wasn't that he had spilled my glitter. It wasn't that he had lied to me.

It was the thought that he might be telling the truth.

I splashed water onto him lightly, letting it run down his back and wash away streams of the glitter as I continued to suck on the very edge of my lip.

"Don't do it again," I said.

Don't take my glitter.

Don't talk to the faeries.

I lifted him up, the bell in his anklet whirring wetly. I wrapped a towel around him, patting him on all sides, covering his head and rustling the towel through his hair. When I lifted it off his face again, he looked all the world like he was blooming from a pea pod.

I dried behind his ears and rubbed the towel over his body one more time.

And then I pulled him to me, squeezing him tightly through the towel and kissing the top of his head. He wiggled, but I only hugged him again, kissing his forehead, his cheek and his tiny nose, breathing in the wonderful clean scent of him and holding back my tears.

"'Ara!" he laughed, squirming away.

"No, you come here you little gremlin. I've got you!" I pulled him down to the shaggy bath rug, tickling the sides of his ribs as he squealed. I took a deep breath and blew against the skin of his chest, his giggles pitching suddenly louder as he wriggled away.

"Mwahaha! I've got you, I'm going to take you away to the Goblin castle!" I grabbed him by the ankles and behind his back, picking him up and running out the bathroom into his room, dumping him onto his bed and bombarding him with blankets and pillows before he could get up.

His laughter ended abruptly.

"Jaime?"

I scrambled through the pillows, shoving them away as I searched for him frantically.

"Jaime?"

There wasn't any way he could be there, I thought. The pile was too shallow under my hands to hide him.

But then he burst forth out of it, laughing loudly and tackling me.

"Oooh no you don't," I laughed, grabbing him and steering him onto my shoulder, patting his bottom lightly. "No attacking the Goblin princess. You go to bed." I pushed the pillows and plushies away, lying Jaime down on the bed.

He pouted at me, but the corners of his lips were still smiling.

I kissed his nose.

"Goodnight, Jaime."

He thrust his arms up demandingly and I laughed, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.

"Goodnight," I whispered.

I watched him for a moment longer, unable to shake the unease from my heart.


End file.
